


Five Times Nathan Stark Was Inappropriately Turned On (and one time he did something about it)

by Stayawhile



Category: Eureka
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-14
Updated: 2011-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:44:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stayawhile/pseuds/Stayawhile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title says it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Nathan Stark Was Inappropriately Turned On (and one time he did something about it)

**Author's Note:**

> Written because [enigmaticblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/) wrote [this.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/162258) Really, it's all her fault.

1.

  

Grad school was so much better than college. True, he was still a good five or six years younger than most of the people in his classes, but it wasn’t so damned obvious. He was over six feet now, his beard was coming in nicely, and if he still got carded at the pub, at least his ID was genuine. Best of all, he had his first girlfriend, a sweet, sexy mechanical engineering major. 

He’d agreed to proofread her senior thesis, and she had cooked him a wonderful dinner, linguine with alfredo sauce and bruschetta. Sitting at the kitchen table to check over her equations, he sighed and shook his head. Ellen was sweet, yes. Sexy, hell yes. His intellectual equal? Not even close. Maybe it was too much to hope for, a partner who could challenge his mind as well as satisfy his body. He turned another page, bored and slightly irritable.   

“How’s it going, sweetie?” she called from the living room, over the sound of the TV.  

“Great,” he lied. “Actually, I’m kind of tired. I’ll take this home and finish it up tomorrow.” He stuffed the papers into a manila envelope and pulled two beers from the fridge. A promo for an upcoming hockey game was playing as he sat beside her on the futon couch. “What are you watching? Anything good, or should we just go to bed, hmmm?”

“Nationals,” she replied absently, snuggling up to his side without taking her eyes off the screen. He threw an arm around her, hoping they could get to the fun part of the evening soon. “Men’s finals are tonight.”  
    
A logo and a burst of music on the screen elicited a groan. “Figure skating?”  
    
“Come on, have you ever actually watched it? These guys are amazing athletes. I love this stuff.” She reached up to entangle a hand in his long black hair, and he sighed, leaning into her.   
   
“All right, babe.” He sighed, figuring he’d probably just fall asleep.   
   
The announcers were beyond inane, the music annoying, and the costumes ridiculous—sequins were bad enough, but feathers? And yet, Nathan found himself agreeing with Ellen. Despite the ludicrous trappings, these guys were definitely athletes, and he couldn’t help being impressed by their strength and skill. By the third competitor, he was calculating the physics of a triple axel, and trying to figure out the scoring system.

Then a slender young man sailed out onto the rink, wearing a simple, skintight black velvet outfit that stood out dramatically against the ice, outlining powerful thighs and calves. As the music began, Nathan leaned forward, something inside him caught by the skater’s grace. This guy really seemed to hear the music, to feel it, his every motion powerful and elegant. Not to mention that he was…well, he was beautiful. As the muscular body leapt and twisted in the air, lines reminding him of Greek sculptures from his art history class, Nathan felt a familiar heat deep in his belly, his cock pulsing into arousal.  

The audience’s applause brought Nathan back to the realization that his jeans were feeling more than a little tight. Bewildered by how quickly his reaction had turned from admiration to lust, he turned his head and kissed Ellen thoroughly, trying to recapture his sense of himself. He was straight, right? He was sitting there with his girlfriend in his lap. It was just some kind of strange…aesthetic response to a particular form of beauty.   

“Come on babe, let’s go to bed." He thrust his tongue into her mouth to push his confusing thoughts away. He wanted to lose himself in her softness and warmth.  Ellen never did realize why Nathan was so intense that night, so focused on her body, so passionate. Nathan was just glad she couldn’t read his mind.    

 

2\.   

Nathan had been a year into his postdoctoral fellowship at Los Alamos when Jason Blake joined the staff. Working in adjacent labs, the two men quickly became friends, Jason’s outgoing nature and sense of humor overcoming Nathan’s reserve. They talked physics over beers after work, competed fiercely at pool, and often went running together.

For the first time, he had a social life that didn’t revolve around a lover. After Ellen, he’d spent a year with Gina, an elegant, older Italian biophysicist. She taught him about fashion and food, helped him choose his first designer suit, and broke his heart when she went back to Milan and the husband she hadn’t bothered to mention. Later, a combination of loneliness and curiosity had led him to the bed of an adjunct professor in chemistry. Craig was sweet, and the sex was surprisingly intense, but before long Nathan realized that the other man wanted more than he was willing to give.  

That had been a while ago, and Nathan had retreated into work. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for relationships, he had decided. It was too easy for him to become completely absorbed in research, to the exclusion of all else, especially since he was convinced he was nearing the answers to some very old questions about the history of the universe. Equations were so much more comprehensible and reliable than other people.  

Jason already had a girl, who was finishing a dual M.D.-Ph.D. program at Yale. From the picture on his desk, Allison was apparently beautiful as well as brilliant, and Jason loved to talk about her. When he flew out to New Haven for her graduation, Nathan wasn’t surprised by Jason’s slightly drunken midnight phone call to tell him they’d gotten engaged.

 

 ***  

For something so quickly planned, the wedding at the end of the summer is elegant. It turns out Allison’s family has money, so it takes place at her grandparents’ huge old house in Charlottesville. Jason’s parents, second-generation Haitian immigrants, seem a little intimidated but immensely proud. Taking his duties as best man seriously, Nathan helps Jason and his father choose their tuxes, and chauffeurs a few elderly relatives from the airport. What with one thing and another, he doesn’t meet the bride until she steps through the french doors into the sunlit garden and all heads turn toward her.  

He’s stunned, somehow, by the smile on her face, the contrast between her coffee-colored skin and the ivory dress, her smooth shoulders and her graceful neck. His composure shaken, Nathan is suddenly intensely jealous of his best friend, even as he hands over the ring and watches them exchange their vows. He closes his eyes when they kiss.  

Shortly afterward, Jason introduces them, and Allison hugs him without reservation. He’s startled, but hesitantly embraces her, letting his hands rest at her waist. She pulls back and smiles at him. “So you’re the guy Jason’s always telling me about. It’s so great to meet you.” Her brown eyes are warm, her smile is joyous, and there’s something twisting deep inside him. “I hope we’ll be friends.”  

Nathan manages a smile as he answers, “So do I.”

Then there’s dinner, and Nathan’s carefully composed toast to the bride and groom is greeted with applause and cheers. The blonde bridesmaid next to him has known Allison since third grade, and she flirts with him, in a dizzy-southern-belle kind of way. She’s not his type at all, but her attention soothes his ego, so he downs a couple of drinks and lets her drag him out on the dance floor. The band is good, playing everything from old forties swing music to classic Motown, and he tries not to think, focusing on the rhythm, and on the blonde’s (Karen? Kerry?) substantial bosom.     
They’re laughing as he spins her around and the music ends, and suddenly Allison and Jason are next to them. Jason’s grinning like he’s won the lottery, and why shouldn’t he? “Having a good time?” Jason asks.  

“Yeah, great party. You’re a lucky man.” He really is happy for Jason, who deserves it. Then Allison turns that radiant smile on him.  

“Isn’t there some wedding tradition where the bride gets to dance with the best man?” Before he knows it, the music has started again, and she’s in his arms. It’s another big-band number, not too fast. She says something about how Jason’s told her all about him, and he replies, wishing her off-the-shoulder gown didn’t provide such a lovely view of her cleavage.   

He can’t shut off the part of his brain that’s shouting at him to put his hand on the back of her neck and pull her into a kiss, to trail his tongue down the smooth column of her throat. He is swamped by a sudden wave of desire, his mouth is dry and he knows he really, really shouldn’t be thinking this way about his best friend’s wife. The only saving grace is that her dress is full-skirted, so there’s no way she can feel his erection through the layers of fabric that separate them. He looks past her, watching Jason talking to her father, and starts working complex equations in his head. He gets through LaPlace’s partial differential on harmonic functions, and is halfway through the Poisson–Boltzmann equation in molecular dynamics by the time the music ends.   

Nathan allows himself to lift her hand to his lips, as he gives her an ironic bow and thanks her for the dance. She gives him a quizzical glance, then smiles and turns to her husband and her family. His eyes linger on her back, the elegant shape of her shoulders.  

Getting drunk helps, and so does taking the blonde (Carol, as it turns out) back to his hotel room. He leaves the lights on, and keeps his eyes open, refusing to let himself imagine that he is really with his best friend’s bride, Dr. Allison Blake.  

 

3\.   

Jetlag was always a bitch, and Nathan was hoping he could roll over and get a couple more hours of sleep when the phone rang.  

Ever since the publication of his paper (Advances in Theoretical and Mathematical Physics, Volume 5, Issue 3), Nathan had been basking in attention. He had known the paper was groundbreaking and original, but it was deeply satisfying to hear it from the rest of the scientific community. Of course, scientists being what they were, there had been attacks, but he knew the math was utterly solid. More than that, it linked seamlessly to the work of some of the most respected physicists, alive and dead, and extended it into new areas.   

He had just gotten back from London, where he’d been guest of honor at a symposium sponsored by the International Association of Mathematical Physics. His presentation of “An Asymmetrical Superstring Model for the Origins of Matter” had been greeted with a standing ovation and more than a dozen job offers. Even that asshole McKay had given him a look that was half respect, half envy.

He had decided to fly up to Oregon and check out one of them; Warren King had pretty much promised unlimited funding, something the universities couldn’t match. If the place was anywhere near as good as it sounded…  

The answering machine hadn’t kicked in—the message box must have filled up while he was away—and the insistent ringing dragged Nathan out of his drowsy state. “Who the hell calls this early?” he muttered, sitting up on the edge of the bed.     
“Hello?” His voice was grouchy, but that didn’t deter the guy on the phone, some European Dr. von Something-or-other who had apparently miscalculated the time difference.   

At the words “Nobel Committee,” he was suddenly wide awake. Dr. Von Whosis was pleased to inform him, on behalf of the committee….

Stockholm. December tenth. His Majesty King Carl Gustav. Nathan heard the words, heard himself making appropriate responses. He hung up the phone and let out a whoop. A Nobel. He was standing in the company of giants: Bohr, Fermi, Einstein, Planck—and Stark! He could feel the blood pulsing in his veins, an adrenaline-fueled rush of excitement and glee.   

He looked down at the phone in his hand and cackled, realizing that not only was he naked, his cock was as stiff as he’d ever seen it. He’d long since stopped questioning his body’s responses, and he fell back on the bed, cock in hand, delighted with himself, savoring the twin highs of emotional and physical sensation.   

He was Nathan Fucking Nobel Laureate Stark now, and he shouted in triumph as he came.   

 

4\.   

It was never clear to Nathan when he started thinking of Callister as a person, and not simply a groundbreaking accomplishment in the development of artificial intelligence. The experiment had required him to pretend, at least in front of the town, but Callister himself turned the pretense into reality. Forcing Callister to leave town, and disguising his sadness and loss as anger about the destruction of his lab, had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.  

Until now.  

Carter had helped him to lay Callister’s—body? shell?—gently into the back of the jeep, and Zoe was asleep in the back seat as they made the silent trip back to Eureka. Nathan was trying very hard to keep his grief locked away. Time enough to indulge that later, alone with a bottle of good scotch and the few photos he kept hidden. At least he could go home, instead of being stuck on display in that goddamned cell. He had Carter to thank for that.  

He looked across at the sheriff, whose eyes were fixed on the road ahead. His jaw was set stiffly, his body language tense. Well, he’d had a rough night, too, with Zoe running away. The kid was a handful, but she’d stayed with Callister when he started—dying—no, shutting down, nothing can die without first being alive…  

The kid was kind of a pain in the ass, but when things got bad, she would do the right thing, and would have no trouble knowing what the right thing was. A lot like her dad, that way. Looking back over Carter’s tenure as sheriff, it probably shouldn’t have surprised him so much.  

 _I’m a father. Of course I understand._  Nathan hadn’t expected anyone to understand that. He had never given Carter any reason to be kind to him. And yet…  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, wishing he could sleep without dreaming. 

“Hey, Stark.” The touch on his arm was gentle, but Nathan started. He hadn’t realized he’d dropped off. “Sorry to wake you, but--”  

“It’s okay, Carter.” He rubbed his eyes and looked around. The jeep was parked just outside the bunker. Carter’s face was concerned.  

“I’ve got Zoe settled, and I need to ask you what you want to do with…” Carter gestured vaguely, and Nathan yawned, forcing his brain into gear.  

“Callister,” he said calmly. “There’s a cold storage unit in my old lab. That’ll do for  
now.” And later? If something couldn’t technically be dead, could you still have a funeral? He shook his head. One thing at a time. He was too worn out to plan or multitask.   

Silently, Carter restarted the jeep and pulled out onto the road. They didn’t speak  
when they arrived at the dark, gloomy building that housed the lab. Stark unlocked the door as Carter opened the jeep’s hatch.  
    
“Hold the door, Carter. I’ll carry him.” The other man nodded in somber agreement as Nathan picked up Callister’s heavy, stiff form, and they made their way between aisles of equipment swathed in plastic sheeting. Another heavy door led to a storage area, containing three round, low tanks. Nathan cocked his head at the light switch.    
Carter flipped it, then looked around the small room and pulled up a chair. The two men settled Callister into it, Jack holding him in place while Nathan activated and unlocked the center tank. A panel lit up, emitting a low whirr, but the inside of the tank was in shadow. Between them, they lifted the inert form of Callister Raynes into it, bending his limbs gently until he fit, curled in an almost fetal position, in the rounded space. Nathan pushed a few more buttons to close the lid, and pushed the clamps that sealed it into place.  

It felt like a burial, in a bizarre high-tech graveyard, the two men side by side, solemn and uncertain. Nathan kept his head down, fighting tears. Damn, he was exhausted, and breaking down in front of Carter was the last thing he wanted to do.  

And then Carter turned to him and reached out, enveloping him in a hug, and the floodgates opened, Nathan sobbing out his grief and guilt and anger into the shoulder of the sheriff’s uniform. The arms around him tightened, and he was clinging to Carter, a broken thing, broken like Callister, except Callister could not have wept.   

He didn’t know how long it was before his gulping breaths slowed. Carter was rubbing his back gently, repeating, “it’s okay, you’ll be okay, I’ve got you,” in a voice barely above a whisper. Nathan felt the strength of the lean frame that supported him, the gentled power of those the muscular shoulders, and it had been so long, so long since he’d been this close to someone.

He suddenly wondered what would happen if he raised his head to Carter’s and kissed him, and the images leapt into his mind, how it would be if Carter kissed him back, how good it would be to lose himself in the warmth of the body already in his arms, to drown this sadness in the wild rush of sex…no. Shaking his his head, Nathan forced himself to step back. That door was closed to him. He had already asked too much.  

Carter was studying him carefully, his clear blue eyes compassionate but free of pity. He reached into his pocket and handed Nathan a handkerchief, and Nathan scrubbed at his face. He looked into those eyes once, and then away.  

“Sorry--” he began.  

“No.” Carter cut him off, in a low firm voice. “Don’t apologize, Nathan. There’s no need for that.”

Nathan met his eyes again, and nodded.   “Thanks, Jack.”  

Carter responded with a small, sad smile. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”   

 

5\.   

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”  

Nathan Stark shook his head. “No,” he said, his tone bored and a little irritated.  

He was lying.  

Sheriff Jack Carter was cranky. He was in a small, transparent plastic enclosure, and he was taking off his clothes. All of them. After all, decontamination only works if it comes into contact with bare skin.   

Nathan, on the other hand, was quite cheerful. He was more than fully covered in a baggy, bright-yellow hazmat suit with a full hood, which had many advantages. It protected him from the remaining toxic waste, for one thing. It also meant that no one could see him clearly, so there was no need to waste energy trying to keep the smile off his face, or concealing any other physical symptoms of interest.  

Nathan Stark was very definitely enjoying this.  

He was getting a good, long look at Carter’s broad, muscular shoulders and toned abs. He was appreciating the small dusting of hair on his chest, and the slim hips. He was savoring the line of hair that led from the sheriff’s navel down to his groin, not to mention the glimpse of his cock. The legs, too…not bad at all.   

Then the cold shower hit full force, and it was all Nathan could do not to laugh out loud at Carter’s reaction, the guttural outburst and frantic scrubbing. Serve him right for sucking up to Allison, with the jogging and the tight teeshirt and the sweating and so forth, and then topping it off by being all heroic. Here he’d spent months trying to give her what she claimed to want most, trying to help Kevin, and what if what she really wanted was a brave, charming goofball with an incredibly hot body?   

Carter turned around. Nathan let out a small groan. Ridiculously hot.  

The shower abruptly turned off, and there was Carter, water trickling down the lines of his body, glaring at Nathan. “Are we done yet?”  

“Sorry, Carter. We need to scan you, make sure we got all the toxins off. Even trace amounts could be hamful, especially in sensitive areas.”

He was lying again. He wasn’t sorry at all, especially when Jo explained that the scanning beam needed to go over every inch of skin, and Carter reluctantly abandoned his feeble attempts at modesty, muttering under his breath.  

Nathan watched, and for a moment, he felt bad about how much he was relishing Carter’s exposure and embarrassment. He had once been at his most vulnerable in front of Jack Carter, and the man had been nothing but kind, had simply wrapped Nathan in those strong arms and held him close, and never mentioned it again.  

But Nathan had to admit, he wasn’t that nice a guy. He was a complete liar, his cock stiffening under his hazmat suit, his brain memorizing the image of Carter’s naked body for later contemplation, his body recalling the feeling of that long, lean frame close to his.   

Yeah, he was enjoying himself.   

 

6.

After Jack left the lab, Henry, Nathan and Allison stayed there to look at all the computer screens. She was right, the pictures were pretty, Nathan thought. Allison was pretty too. But there was something bothering him.  

He tried to concentrate. It had to do with Jack, the look on Jack’s face at Henry’s comment about Jack feeling dumb all the time. Nathan could tell Jack’s feelings were hurt, even if he tried to pretend they weren’t. Henry wasn’t mean, but it was kind of a mean thing to say. And Jack couldn’t be that dumb, because he found somebody to fix the chaotic thingy so it made nice pictures instead of blowing up.   

But Henry and Jack were friends, so maybe it was okay. And after all, Nathan said stuff like that all the time.  

His head was starting to hurt from so much thinking. He was tired of thinking all the time. It wasn’t as much fun as playing with that little car. That was cool.  

But Jack…Jack was nice to everybody. And Nathan wasn’t. He was mean to Jack, he made fun of him all the time, and Jack wasn’t his friend. Nathan thought about that for a minute. Jack was nice, and nice to look at, and would be a good friend. He was good at hugging too, and probably at all that other stuff that you could do while you were hugging. But Jack wasn’t his friend. Nathan decided he was sad about that.     
Henry and Allison didn’t notice when he left the lab to find Jack.    

Nathan almost got lost—all the halls looked the same—but he finally found Jack in a little room with a coffeepot and some chairs. “I found you!” he said happily.  

Jack looked up at him like he was tired. “Hey, Stark. How are you feeling?”  
Nathan had to think about that. He was glad he wasn’t lost. Now he just had to remember why he was looking for Jack. Oh, yeah.   

“Am I mean?” he asked.  

Now Jack looked confused. Nathan tried to explain. “Um, I think maybe I’m sort of mean to you sometimes? And I’m sorry, and I don’t want you to be mad at me. Can we be friends?”  

Jack was shaking his head, but he had a little smile on his face, so he wasn’t mad. “Yeah, Stark. We can be friends today.” That made Nathan happier, so he sat down next to Jack.  

“Okay, then you should call me Nathan, not Stark. And I can call you Jack.” Jack sipped at his coffee and laughed a little bit. Nathan wasn’t sure what was funny, but he laughed too. Then he thought a little bit about what Jack said.   

“You said today,” Nathan said. “Does that mean we can’t be friends tomorrow?” The idea made Nathan sad, because he had decided he really liked Jack a lot. Maybe Jack didn’t know that, so he said, “I like you, Jack. I like you a lot.”   

“Dunno, Stark. I mean, Nathan. Let’s just get through today, and if you still want to be friends tomorrow, we can, all right?”   

Jack had a nice voice, and his eyes were very blue, and Nathan thought maybe if Jack knew how much he liked him, he might get another hug, or maybe even a kiss. His leg was next to Jack’s leg, and that gave him a good, warm feeling.  

“Um, I mean I like you, like you. I like you….like that.” It was a little embarrassing, but Nathan knew Jack wouldn’t be mean to him.  

Jack gave him a funny look, like he was confused, but there was something else there too, and if gave Nathan a kind of tingly feeling. He wanted to explain to Jack, but he couldn’t figure out how to say it, and it was frustrating. So he kissed him instead.   

He really liked kissing Jack, but Jack wasn’t kissing him back. Nathan stopped, and looked at Jack’s face. His eyes were wide open, and still a really pretty blue, but Nathan couldn’t tell what he thought about the kiss. Maybe it had been a bad idea.  

“Are you mad at me?” He had to ask. Jack didn’t look mad, but he didn’t look happy either.  Jack put his head down and rubbed his fingers through his hair.

“No, I’m not mad.” He stood up, and Nathan looked up at him. “Listen, I just have to go find somebody, cause there’s another problem I need to fix, okay? Can you wait till tomorrow? If you want to talk about it then, then we can talk about it.” He turned and left the room abruptly.  

Nathan sat back on the couch. He still wasn’t sure if Jack was mad at him or not. He hoped not, because he’d liked kissing him, and he wanted to do it again. He tried to figure out if Jack had liked the kiss, but it was hard to concentrate when his dick felt this way, and he was remembering that time he saw Jack with no clothes on. He just wanted to go home and play with his dick and think about Jack some more.      

 

The next morning when Nathan woke up, his GABA levels were back to normal, which meant his embarrassment level was off the chart. He had not only been stupid enough to almost blow GD sky-high, he’d been stupid enough to kiss Carter! Months of hiding how he felt, months, and in one spectactularly stupid day he’d ruined it.  

Although Carter probably wouldn’t say a word. He had never mentioned Nathan’s breakdown, after Callister. They could both just blame the whole thing on another experiment gone wrong, and pretend it hadn’t happened.   

The problem was, he wasn’t at all certain he wanted to pretend. A large part of his brain (not to mention a certain part of his body) wanted to kiss Jack Carter again.    
Jack hadn’t kissed him back. But then, but he was the kind of guy who would never take advantage of an idiot, which Nathan had certainly been. It appeared being a total idiot was what it took to get him to admit the truth. Nathan lay back on his bed with a groan.  It was ironic, he thought. At his usual level of intelligence, he was an emotional moron—Allison had told him so, more than once—when he was dumber than a post, he understood his feelings perfectly, and had no trouble expressing them.   

On the other hand, he had a whole lot of amazing new data to analyze, and it was more than pretty pictures to him now. It would absorb all his attention for months, and it would be easy to forget about everything and everyone else, like he always did when he had a truly intriguing scientific puzzle to unravel.     

There were eleven screens full of data open on his desktop, and his mind was connecting the dots at dizzying speed. Everything he’d ever learned about physics was the background, and the new information in front of him took all those facts from black and white and sent them spinning in 3-D color and motion. He lived for moments like this, when his mind was filled with pure abstract beauty and everything made sense.   

He heard the door open behind him. “I’m busy, Fargo!” he barked. Couldn’t they just leave him alone to play with this beautiful new picture of the universe unfolding?”  

“Sorry, Stark.” Jack’s voice. Suddenly Nathan was back in his body again, in the world of people where he knew he was fully capable of screwing things up.  

“Sorry to interrupt, but if we don’t want Mansfield descending on us like the wrath of God, we need to get this paperwork in really soon.” He held out a file.  

For a moment Nathan could only stare at his face, remembering the feeling of those lips against his. His eyes were so blue…and his expression was troubled, somehow hesitant.  

“Have a seat, Jack.” He gestured at the chair. Jack sat, and for a moment they were silent.  

“About yesterday…” Nathan paused, and then made a decision.   

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Jack replied. “Nothing blew up, and that big brain of yours is working again, so no harm, no foul.”  

“I said some things to you,” Nathan went on. “Yeah, I was stupid, and I probably never would have said them if my brain was working. But…that doesn’t mean they weren’t true.”  

Jack licked his lips nervously. “Which things, exactly?” he asked.  

“I seem to recall saying that I liked you, which I do. I also said I was sorry for being mean to you, which I am. And I have a distinct recollection of kissing you, and wanting to do it again. Which I still do.” Nathan was surprised at how calm his voice was.  

“Really?” Jack replied. “Are you sure your brain is all better? What’s the square root of 3006?”   

“Fifty-four point eight two seven, and yes, I’m sure,” Nathan said. He waved his hand at the desktop. “I can understand this part of yesterday perfectly, and it’s complicated and amazing.” He looked up and gave a small smile. “Like you.”  

Jack shook his head. Nathan suddenly felt uncertain, wondering whether Jack would believe him, whether he would be horrified or disgusted or simply not interested.   

Nathan hated not knowing everything. 

He took a deep breath and asked, “So, if I hadn’t been under the influence of organic chicken, would you have kissed me back?”   

Jack gazed at him for what felt like a very long time. When he stood up, Nathan was afraid for a moment that he was about to walk out, and the idea hurt. But instead, Jack walked around the desk to stand beside Nathan’s chair. Nathan stood to face him. Jack’s hand was gentle on the back of Nathan’s neck, drawing him close, and his lips were firm and dry and felt so very, very good. Nathan closed his eyes, falling into the kiss with a strange sensation of vertigo. No turning back now, no more pretending.

“That answer your question?” Jack murmured into his ear.  

“Oh, yes,” Nathan sighed. He knew what the birth of the universe looked like now, what it felt like.   

It felt like Jack Carter, in his arms, kissing him back.


End file.
